


Debut of Justice

by ThatSassyCaptain



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Drake-centric, Friendship, Gen, Mystery, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 23:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18926836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSassyCaptain/pseuds/ThatSassyCaptain
Summary: Launchpad has convinced would-be actor Drake Mallard to don the cape and mask of Darkwing Duck, but how does he fare when actual crime comes into play?Or I watched episode 16 and was so wired I wrote nearly 5k words in 2 hours help me





	Debut of Justice

**Author's Note:**

> I am SO HYPED GUYS I CAN'T BELIEVE IT
> 
> Uhhh uhhh notes right um Drake centric, lots of headcanoning, and bonus points if you grab all the OG DW references because there's only like 2 and I'm a mess
> 
> Edit: I'm shaking I'm so excited that I keep making typos I'm literate I promise (Edit 2: oh no that's another)

He was the terror that flapped in the night, he was the searchlight that illuminated this city’s dirty underbelly. He was… a little lost.

Drake Mallard had been at this superhero business in his head for more than twenty years, but the first twenty minutes out in the suit- Scrooge McDuck had let him have all the Darkwing: First Darkness props in lieu of his final paycheck, _sucker-_ felt a little overwhelming. He’d already fallen in a muddy ditch near the bus stop, not that tonight was shaping up to be a good night for a debut.

It had been raining steadily since he’d texted the new Junior Co-President of the Darkwing Duck fanclub. It was weird, thinking that Launchpad was the only other member of the club that _wasn’t_ Darkwing Duck. Drake put a little spring in his step as he ran to burn off the nervous energy. He was still getting used to the idea that _he_ was Darkwing.

Ever since his agent had come in with the experimental script and newcomer’s contract, there’d been a buzz around his entire body. It was like being electrocuted- which he could now say he’d experienced- only with the voltage of lifelong dreams finally coming to fruition. He thought being St. Canard’s masked protector on the silver screen would be impossible, and before that he thought having an acting career would be just as unattainable.

Those dreams had fallen through in the end, but they gave way to the harmonious herald of his new heroic endeavor. The world may never know about Drake Mallard’s failed-to-launch acting career, but soon everyone would know the flesh-and-feathers Darkwing Duck!

At least, they might if he could find and stop a crime in progress. As an actor, he knew a little something about big breaks. Sometimes it was a bit role in a big project that ended up getting traction, other times it was a risky standalone venture that turned out to be a box-office breakthrough. Either way, Drake knew his arrival on the superhero scene would take a lot of work and a lot of luck.

But luck was on his side. Launchpad not only knew about as much as he did about Darkwing, but he was also pretty in the know about crime in Duckburg. Apparently chauffeuring for Scrooge McDuck meant you saw a lot of action. Drake used his cape to shield his phone from the rain as he checked his messages. Launchpad had given him a few safe bets: The Beagle Boys, Flintheart Glomgold (although the world’s second richest duck had been pretty quiet of late), and strangest of all tech wizard Mark Beaks.

Well, Drake wasn’t about to go after the same archenemy Gizmoduck had just made. If he was going to prove he had what it took to steal the spotlight then he was going to build his reputation from the ground up! Besides, flashy gadgets and gizmos were only accessories. Drake resolved to prove his merits on his wits, his cunning, and his superior abilities as a detective. Well, that was the speech he’d been practicing if he got interviewed. Thinking on his feet didn’t always work out spectacularly, but at least he knew he could take a hit.

Besides, there wouldn’t be any reporters ambushing him before he’d had a few moments to recover from whatever heroic deed he’d be accomplishing later tonight! Hopefully. Launchpad did say that a fair share of the hero-ing was done preemptively by Mr. McDuck or one of his cohorts. If it was a crime in progress he was after, he would have to keep constant vigilance.

Drake skirted the woods on the edge of the docks and the industrial district. That was usually where all the action happened in the movies. It was a pretty safe bet. At the very least he could do some scouting while his eye in the sky watched for new developments.

The warehouse in front of him was actually pretty busy for a rainy Tuesday night. It seemed like all it took to keep the work moving was a few tarps and some floodlights. Huh. Maybe… Maybe tonight was a bad night. He could come back in the middle of an emergency! Whenever the chips were down and the local police needed the help of a hero… No, Gizmoduck was practically Johnny-on-the-spot with calls like that. Patrolling was the only option.

In the meantime, there was one avenue of research he could take. Drake wiped his hand on the inside of his cape before pulling out his phone. After a ring and a half, the call was live.

“Hi LP? It’s me Drake- I mean Drakewing Dark- _I mean Darkwing Duck._ Gosh, it’s cool saying that! I don’t know if I can get the hang of his before I’ll have to say it in front of people. I mean, it’s one thing in front of the camera but-” He snapped his bill shut and took a quick breath. No good going total fanboy first day on the job. The people of Duckburg were counting on him whether they knew it or not! “How are things looking tonight?”

Launchpad had, thankfully, sat through the entirety of the skittish speech. Drake heard the click of a keyboard in the background while his Junior Co-President spoke. “So far so good DW! We’ve been looking at the news and a few of Mr. McD’s fancier cameras for a scoop. Nothing yet, but we’ll keep a lookout!”

Drake took a breath to respond before he stopped. _We?_ “Hey uh, Launchpad, you said ‘we’ were looking things up? Did you mean ‘we’ as in ‘you and me’ or ‘we’ as in there’s someone else there helping you?”

“Oh yeah!” Launchpad responded. “I had Dewey help me figure out how to log into the camera feed, and then asked him to stay and help with the rest of the operation.” Before he could say anything else, a youthful voice hollered over the speaker.

“Hey hey Darkwing! Can I call you ‘DW’ like Launchpad, or do I have to become like, the Junior Junior Vice President of the fanclub? Oh is that your cover? Dude that’s genius! Nobody’d suspect that the president of the Darkwing Duck fanclub was the _actual_ Darkwing Duck! I can’t wait to get in on this. Do you need a spunky kid sidekick, because I can skateboard pretty great-”

Drake had to hold the phone a ways from his ear for the duration. He’d met with Dewey for a few minutes and he had to admire the kid’s energy. But this was a little too loud for a stealth mission.

“I don’t know about the sidekick job,” He cut in gently, “but I uh, appreciate your enthusiasm. Consider yourself the official Assistant to the Junior Co-President of the Darkwing Duck fanclub.” Adding under his breath, “Since you know all about the operation now, I guess. OK.” He cleared his throat. “Dewey, can you put LP back on?”

“Don’t worry, DW,” the call quality dropped significantly as Launchpad replied, “It’s on speaker now so we can all hear.”

“Great, great. Thanks, and uh, anyway LP… Are there any updates on your end? Darkwing Duck’s supposed to get back up and fight for what’s right, but all I’m doing right now is watching some hard working citizens uh, doing their jobs.”

True enough, the shipping containers were being loaded without incident. Wooden pallets were being stacked under tarps to protect from the weather. The foreman was flying backwards into a shadowy corner. Nothing suspicious at- Oh. _Yikes._

“Um, hang on a minute LP, I think there’s actually a uh- a uh _something suspicious_ happening right here. Call you back.”

Drake hurried through the shadowed treeline and toward the closest bit of fence to the forest he could find. What just happened? Had nobody seen that? Honestly, it hadn’t been too conspicuous… But he had seen it. _Oh boy_ , he had seen it, and it looked like he was the only one.

Using a low hanging tree branch and his stunt training, Drake managed to swing himself up to a better vantage point. It was dark in the part of the yard he’d last seen the foreman, but if he squinted- there! Movement on the south side of the building. He’d only caught a glimpse, but whatever was happening, it was happening towards the docks.

Drake got a little further up the tree until he was in a good position to clear the fence. Really, it was no surprise suspicious things were happening around here. The tree’s proximity to the fence was a clear weak point in the security, and Drake had counted at least three people without proper eyewear- _Focus._ It could be nothing. If this place was getting lax in their safety procedures, then it could be that the foreman had just tripped. It could be the foreman lost his balance quickly and in a backwards direction.

He hopped quietly from one large container to another. Not for the first time, Drake was grateful for all the stunt work he’d done before he tried to break into acting. He’d wanted to be just like his hero and do all his own stunts. Of course, the professionals knew Jim Starling took too many risks in order to play the role- not, that Drake could blame him for wanting to put his whole heart into an inspiring performance- but that was just extra motivation! Drake did his utmost and then some to make sure he was the best and the safest he could be.

To an extent. It seemed in his mild panic, Drake misjudged the slipperiness of the third shipping container. Instead of making a clean and balanced landing, he slid right off the side and into the wall of the adjacent building. He dropped to the gravel with a _whump_. Drake winced. It was really less of a wince and more of a full body cringe, but his head was spinning a little too much for specialty semantics. Luckily he’d learned to fall in Hawk Huggins’ Stunt School for the Action Impaired. It had saved him broken bones at the very least.

Drake opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn’t. He squinted against he full beam of a flashlight. _Busted._

“Uh, good evening.” Drake winced again. He pushed himself to his feet, wracking his brain for a way out of this one. “Did you know that on average, a burglary happens every 20 seconds? Luckily, I’ve been able to identify the very uh, most vulnerable spots in your security....”

He paused, noting that the flashlight hadn’t followed him off the ground. In fact, it was now pointed squarely at his webbed feet. The flashlight was laying on the ground, ownerless.

 _The foreman._ Drake spun on his heel and took off down the narrow alley between the shipping container and the main warehouse. He couldn’t really make heads or tails of the footprints in the mud before him. It was dark, he’d left that flashlight behind, and really who left a flashlight on unattended? _Somebody in trouble,_ his mind supplied. He was hardly even thinking at this point. The patter of the rain and the squelch of his frantic footfalls in the mud were the only sounds of note. Oh, maybe that was a forklift beeping. Who knows?

He’d added the hammering of his heart to the mix. Launchpad might be wrong about this. Sure, hero stuff looked easy on paper what with all the martial arts training he’d pursued. And yeah, he could do much better than ‘blathering blatherskite’ or whatever Gizmoduck was trying to pass off as a catchphrase. But Drake had to admit he was panicking. This was a little out of his depth.

A few more turns down this one-way walkway had him coming up on the water. Drake tried to keep his breathing quiet as he neared the junction. He hadn’t realized he’d gone so far so quickly. Soon, he’d be able to see the docks, the lighthouse, _ooh_ Scrooge McDuck’s famous money bin-

“Is this the best you schmucks could do? The foreman? I said get the shipping manifest and you clowns bring me a glorified hall monitor.”

Drake slammed to a halt and pressed himself up against the brick wall. His heart rate picked up a few more notches. _This was a kidnapping! A burglary! A flesh-and-feathers crime in progress!_ Shaking with equal parts excitement and terror, Drake kept listening.

“Sorry, boss! He locked the manifest in the safe before we could steal it. And then he wouldn’t tell us the combination-”

“Do I have to do everything myself?” The nasal voice of this ‘Boss’ replied. Drake could practically hear him sneering over the sound of the rain and the metallic squeal of a boat or something shifting nearby. “Stand aside boys. You’re about to watch a top agent at work.”

Agent? Drake didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t like where this was going. Usually in a Derek Blunt film, that was what the bad guy said before he started interrogating someone. Even in the reboots- which were the whole reason he knew who Super Spy Derek Blunt _was_ , thank you very much- there was always a very clear buildup from Bad Guy monologue to imminent torture.

“OK Drake, you can do this.” He whispered to himself. Nobody else was around, and the foreman sounded like he was in a world of trouble. “Let’s get dangerous, let’s get dangerous, let’s get- deep breath…!”

He pulled out his gas gun and fired a shot around the corner into the mud. In an instant, the opening ahead of him was shrouded in thick smoke.

“I am the terror-” he projected over the hammering of his heart as he stepped into the obscured open, “-that flaps in the night. I am the OSHA regulation that keeps worksites safe…” Drake tried to quickly take stock of the situation in front of him. Three shadowy figures, plus one on the ground. Besides that, he thought his opening could use a little work.

“I am Darkwing Duck! Unhand that honest overseer at once!”

The four of them were coughing at the introduction of the gas. There wasn’t much light back here- _maybe not on accident_ \- but he thought he could pick out the Boss from the others. This guy was pretty tall, closer to Launchpad’s height than his own. He wasn’t as big though, which could prove an advantage if the thug was a fainter.

“Darkwing-” The Boss broke off, still coughing, “Like the kids show? Didn’t that guy go crazy and drive everybody who knew him up the wall?”

“You keep the sterling name of Jim Starling out of your mouth, evildoer!” Drake readied his gas gun. Starling may not have been perfect. He may have been desperate for the limelight and overzealous, but he had been a good man right to the end. Drake still felt a lump rise in his throat when he thought about how Starling had pushed him out of the way-

The smoke was clearing rapidly. Drake could see the three thugs a little better. It looked like two of them had earpieces and tactical glasses from the gleam he could glean in the darkness. The Boss was wearing as lighter colored suit as well as some kind of mask or something. Boy it was _dark_ back here.

“So you’re what?” The Boss started again, “The new nutjob in town? Gonna go fight crime wearing a bedsheet and a sunhat?”

 _Deep breath, Drake, deep breath._ “For your information, I’m the real McCoy. And you’d best back off before things get more dangerous than you bargained for!”

A pretty convincing speech, if the thugs didn’t have super hearing. If he had a smartwatch, it would be telling him to chill out before he went into cardiac arrest. He had to wrap this up before he fainted from the stress.

Drake took the lull in the conversation as his cue. He raised the gas gun and took aim.

“Suck gas, villains!”

And then everything went haywire. Drake fired what he thought was a dead-on shot to the Boss’ face, but there was a _clang_ just before the gas pellet went flying off at an angle. It burst in entirely the wrong area. There went the element of surprise.

A spiteful chuckle rose up over the sound of dispersing gas. “Oh, so Darkwing Dork has some fancy toys! Well, I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve too! Get ‘im, boys!”

Drake put up his fists as the goons rushed him. Not good. He had to end this fight and get the foreman to safety before anything happened to him. Not that- he ducked a swing- these guys were going to make it easy for him. This wasn’t stage combat or friendly sparring. This was real life, and he was going to need every ounce of martial arts training, improv, and sheer dumb luck that he could utilize.

Blocking another punch, Drake retaliated. He felt a surge of adrenaline as his hit landed. He was a crime fighter! He was really out there, fighting crime- Dodging another punch from the second goon, Drake shot out a leg and swept the flailing fugitive’s feet out from under him.

“Ha! You bumbling burglars are no match for Darkwing-” Something heavy and solid slammed into the back of his head. _Right,_ his mind conjured the thought through the dense ringing between his ears, _the Boss._

A clawed foot pressed into his ribs and rolled him over with a swift kick. Drake felt that the world was spinning even more than it should have. It was looking like he was about to eat mud and his own words.

“Well well well, the caped crusader thought he could play dress-up with the big kids. Look how well that turned out for you. I guess Darkwing Dunce is gonna have another series finale!”

 _Get up, Drake,_ he thought in a panic, _Get dangerous. Get up, get dangerous. Get up, get dangerous!_

He rolled a little ways away and got back to his feet. He was facing off against the Boss, still mostly obscured by the low light. Drake put his fists back up and squared his feet.

“Oh I don’t know, pal. I feel like you might get a rise out of the network ratings.” Remembering the mask-thing and the disastrous effect it had on his gas pellets, Drake jumped back into the fray with a new tactic. He used his slimmer build and smaller height to his advantage. The Boss would have a harder time hitting him if he couldn’t catch him. It was his best option so far.

He saw one of the goons was getting back up out of the mud and came up with an idea. Once the thug charged, Drake sidestepped and stuck out a leg to make things interesting. The goon went flying into his boss, and both took a tumble to the ground. Drake took this opportunity to hurry over to the fallen foreman.

“Hey, are you alright? You’ve got to get out of here! These guys mean business!” The foreman was gripping his arm like a lifeline. It seemed like the man was shaken, what little of his body language Drake could read in the dark.

“Y-you’ve gotta help me!” The foreman squeaked. “I don’t know w-what they want with the m-manifest but you’ve got- you’ve got to get me out of here!”

Drake was starting to feel the gravity of the situation as he saw the Boss and his minions picking themselves out of the muck. It was three against one, and Drake was on the defensive now. That meant only one thing: they had to get moving.

“Hang on tight, citizen!” Drake cringed even as he said it, but there was nothing for it. “I’ll have you out of here before you can say bumbling burglars!”

“Why you little-” The Boss was angrily getting back to his feet as Drake pulled out his secret weapon. He aimed the grappling hook at the tangle of pipes on top of the brick building and fired. The hook clanged against the straights and corners until it caught in between something well enough to support him and the director-turned-damsel.

Drake decided to get while the getting was good. He and the foreman lifted off the ground just as the thugs regrouped. Soon, they were soaring high above the murderous muckrollers and landing on the rooftop.

“Run for it! I’m going to call the police!” Drake let the foreman go and fumbled in his pockets for his phone. He fished it out and pressed the lock button. Nothing. Drake clicked it again and waved it around. Good thing the foreman had already run off. In the reflected light of the far-off floodlamps, Drake could see a series of spiderweb cracks creeping into every cranny of his screen.

Fabulous. But he hadn’t landed a big budget movie role for nothing.

“Hello, operator? Yes I’m out on uh the worksite at McDuck Shipping and Processing. There was an attempted kidnapping and the kidnappers are still on site- Yes, McDuck shipping in the dockyards, pier-” He feigned squinting into the impenetrable darkness. “Pier 4! And hurry. We may need an ambulance. One of the kidnappers looks like he’s going to be taking a nasty fall.”

He was soaked, filthy, concussed, and way out of his depth, but Drake Mallard’s improv skills just won him the day. One of the goons started backing toward the docks and the leader let out a growl of frustration.

“Idiots! How could you let me lose to some loser in a costume!”

“The only losers here are you, gentlemen! I suggest you run before you’re sporting this season’s latest accessory: official Darkwing Duck police-grade handcuffs!”

While those _did_ exist somewhere, Drake didn’t have any. This was the biggest bluff of his life. He watched, soaked in equal parts sweat and rain, for the second the thugs mulled it over. The Boss pointed up at the roof with a snarl.

“You’ll pay for this, Dead-meat Duck! You’ll rue the day you ran afoul of me!”

With that, the three of them took off down the dock and towards a boat. Whether it was theirs or about to be stolen, Drake was not giving chase. As soon as the engine revv’d up, he sat back heavily onto the roof. His first foray as a crime fighter had him bruised and battered. He didn’t think he was in any shape to actually take down some villains. Big debut or no, he had his health to consider.

Carefully, he picked himself up and started to make his way back over the shipping containers. As he hit the tree line, Drake looked back and saw the flashing lights of actual law enforcement. Time to go! He wasn’t an official hero like Gizmoduck, and goodness knows what the vigilante laws actually were in this town. Drake hot-footed it back towards the bus stop- fell in the _same_ wide ditch now full of mud- and maneuvered back to where he’d parked his car.

He briefly lamented his appearance and the fact that he’d need to get the suit dry-cleaned. Oh well.

“Drake ol’ boy, it wasn’t a total failure.” He told himself in the rearview mirror as he started up his car. “You saved that poor foreman from being a punching bag for a few overeager burglars.”

It wasn’t the most satisfying victory but hey, not everyone could have a fancy suit appear out of nowhere to help fight crime… He pulled off the access road and back onto the highway. It was fine. Everybody had to play a few bit parts before making it big! Sooner or later, he’d catch a break. _Keep getting back up! Don’t let this flop stop you._

Drake didn’t bother to mess with the hat and mask until he got back to his apartment. There were enough weirdos in masks in Duckburg. Nobody would bat an eye. He fished his keys out of the cupholder and made the long trek up the stairs. Just his luck renting in an old building with charm and the thing doesn’t even have an elevator.

But, his surprises for the evening hadn’t run out. No sooner had he put the key in the lock when the door flew open and he was dragged bodily into the apartment.

“Are you _really_ Darkwing Duck?” Someone screeched. Drake stared wide-eyed at the child who had, apparently, broken into his home. This child was joined by a second child that he recognized. But the screaming wasn’t through.

“Dewey said you were the real deal but I wasn’t sure until I saw you on the news! What’s your cape made of? How many styles of martial arts do you know?” The little girl was running around him examining his costume. “How do you survive a fall more than five stories? _I’m Webby!_ ”

Funny how lungs so small could be so loud. “A finely threaded aluminum alloy, fourteen, not in one piece unless you’re extremely lucky.” It didn’t take a detective to figure out what happened. “Nice to meet you, Webby. Did you break into my apartment?”

“Did we ever!” Dewey chimed in. “But like, forget the fact that #DarkwingDuck was trending the other day- you’ve blown up the internet, my dude!” The duckling pulled out his phone. “I don’t think I’ve seen news coverage this crazy since Gizmoduck’s debut. It might even be more- Oh! Launchpad recorded the newscast for you, you gotta come watch!”

Just as he thought he’d totaled the B&E headcount for the evening, he heard Launchpad’s voice from the TV room. “Hey DW come check this out! I’ve watched the broadcast like, 38 times and it still doesn’t get old!”

Stunned, Drake hurried through the doorway with the kids on his heels. He arrived in time to see Launchpad finishing the rewind. The last commercial ended, and there was the movie poster on a major news network.

“This just in:” the newscaster began, “a developing story outside of the Duckburg Docks this evening. A botched burglary ended without any arrests, but a very interesting intervention. Bill Downey is live on the scene with the special report. Bill?”

The shot cut to a well-dressed reporter standing next to the McDuck Shipping and Processing foreman.

“Hey! I saved that guy!”

“Shh!” The other three had crowded the couch to watch.

The foreman sported a bandage on his head, no doubt courtesy of the ambulance directly behind him. “It was-was amazing! I remember the car-cartoon, but there he was in real life! Stop-stopped those guys f-from stealing sensitive documents. Darkwing Duck is-is real and he saved my life!”

Drake hardly noticed he was walking around the edge of the couch until he sat heavily on an empty cushion. The picture changed again to what looked like night-vision security footage from the brick building where they’d had the showdown. The camera captured the whole fight, from the gas gun to the cheap shot the Boss had taken with what looked like a crowbar. Goodness knows where he got that from.

“The Police have not identified the burglars,” the newscaster continued, “but citizens are urged to contact the Duckburg Police Department with any information regarding these three men, or the masked vigilante posing as Darkwing Duck.”

“Posing!” Drake shot up off his seat. “Posing! I am Darkwing Duck! Did you see that? LP!” He turned to Launchpad and the kids with a face-splitting grin. “I saved that guy! He knew who I was and he said I saved his life!”

“Well yeah!” Webby climbed up onto the arm of the couch. “You did the-” she hooked an arm in front of her face, “-I am the terror that flaps in the night part, right? He _had_ to know who you were!”

“I guess he did.” Drake looked back at the TV with a smile. He _was_ Darkwing Duck now. That was his debut, and by gum he had to run with it. It looked like Launchpad’s idea wasn’t so far fetched after all. But that reminded him.

“Say, LP… Who are these kids and how do you all know where I live?”

“The internet-”

“-your website-”

“-I hacked the McDuck Studio employee database!”

Drake sighed. He’d bet his bottom dollar _Gizmoduck_ didn’t have to deal with this.


End file.
